


These Quiet Times

by SublimeDiscordance



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Father/Son Incest, Fluff, M/M, attempts at fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/pseuds/SublimeDiscordance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically just domestic fluff of whoever I feel needs it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Quiet Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vedettal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vedettal/gifts).



> This will likely have multiple pairings. Tags will be updated as I go.
> 
> Likely to be unbeta'd as these are probably gonna be things I just sorta shoot off at random intervals.

"Chuck, for fuck’s sake—"

"Oiy! I survived a bloody nuke at the bottom of the fuckin’ ocean and saved the _fuckin’ world_. You can shut your stupid mouth about it.”

Herc runs a hand through his hair, wishing for not the first time that he were willing to grow it out, if only so he could have something to grab on to instead of just this…fruitless scrabbling he’s forced to do, fingertips dragging against his skin. He fixes Chuck with a glare where the kid is sprawled in front of the TV they’d bought once they’d found a house on which they could both agree. The damn thing is bigger than Herc would’ve ever imagined possible back in his youth, and had cost a near-fortune—but, it’d been the only thing Chuck had asked for out of everything, so they’d gotten it. 

Chuck doesn’t ever ask for much—never has—but what his son wants, his son gets.

Usually.

Of course,  _usually_  what his son wants is for his dad to fuck him three ways to next week, egging him on with biting words and teeth that leave marks in Herc’s skin. He shakes his head, finally dropping his hand.

"You can’t spend all day inside," he moves to sit in front of his son’s thighs, ignoring the slight sting when Chuck doesn’t look away from whatever TV show he’s marathoning on Netflix this time; reaches a hand up to run down his kid’s arm where it’s holding on to a blanket and tries for a more gentle tone, forcing the irritation and worry from his voice.

"You should get out. Do something. It’s not good for you to be inside all day. The doctors said—"

"I don’t give a fuck what the bloody doctors think they know," Chuck grumbles, still not looking at him, and Herc feels his face twist in a grim smile.

"Alright, fine, but we’re out of Tim Tams and I was heading for the store anyway so I figured you’d want to co—"

Chuck’s thrown the blanket off of himself and jumped off the couch before Herc can even react. Sloppy. His reflexes are going to shit. However, the brief moment of recrimination is worth it to see Chuck staring at him with an intensity that the kid seems to always carry with him—had gotten from his mother, really. It makes something warm flare to life in Herc’s gut.

"Well? What’re we waiting for, then?"

Herc just laughs—his son’s sweet tooth has been his downfall more than once—and stands as well, wrapping his arms around Chuck’s middle and pulling the kid into a brief kiss. Chuck tastes like peanut butter and something else sweet—probably the fucking apples that keep disappearing—and Herc can’t get enough.

"Alright, love," he pulls away to smile, showing his teeth. "But you might wanna put on pants, first."

**Author's Note:**

> Any requests? Feel free to let me know.


End file.
